Stone Gossard Gets Real: “Don’t Be So Damn Anxious”

From the early Green River days to getting schooled by Neil Young, with stops at Dark Matter, Iggy Pop, and the Loosegroove comeback — a deep dive into the creative gut instinct of one of the founding members of Pearl Jam.

Photo: Henry Ruggeri

On the latest episode of Safe Mode Radio, Stone Gossard opens up in a way we don’t hear that often. Sitting across from him is Jamie Hall of Tigercub — now signed to the revived Loosegroove Records, the label Stone co-founded with Regan Hagar, shut down in the early 2000s and brought back in 2020. What unfolds isn’t some stiff promo chat — it’s two musicians talking shop, trading war stories, and digging into what actually matters.

When Stone goes back to the Green River days, he doesn’t hype it up. No grand “we knew we were starting a movement” energy. Just a bunch of art school misfits in Seattle trying to make noise. He laughs about how nobody was really that good. That was the point. If you could remember a riff the next day, you were ahead of the game. Less than a year into playing guitar, he’s opening for hardcore bands and getting side-eyed by crowds who didn’t know what to make of them — and they still thought they were killing it. That reckless confidence? He’s still chasing that headspace.

When Green River split and the paths forked into Mudhoney and eventually Pearl Jam, Stone looks back with surprising clarity. Too many strong opinions in one room, too many directions pulling at once. He even admits he might’ve been a better bandmate if he’d slowed down and listened more instead of rolling in with stacks of riffs every rehearsal. That kind of self-check isn’t something you hear every day from a Rock Hall-level musician.

He also gets real about booze. Back then, drinking was basically part of the ritual — a shortcut to loosen up and tap into that “lose yourself” vibe. Now? He says playing sober hits harder. You’re more present. If you screw up, you feel it. But it’s honest. And for Stone, honesty beats the illusion every time.

The wildest story in the whole thing is about recording Mirror Ball with Neil Young. Three days in the studio. Neil writes songs the night before. Shows up with giant lyric sheets. “It’s C, G, D — chorus goes here.” They play it once. That’s the take. Done. No endless tweaks. No perfection chase. Stone admits he was straight-up terrified — how do you not mess up a Neil Young song? But that was the lesson. Don’t overthink it. Don’t polish the life out of it. Neil wasn’t chasing technical perfection — he was chasing feeling. That stuck.

In a world where everyone on Instagram plays like a machine and edits every note, Stone wonders what the next punk rock move even is. What’s left to rebel against? He brings up Fun House by The Stooges — that nasty, sweaty groove you can’t fake — and talks about AC/DC and how the magic is just as much about what they don’t play as what they do. Groove over flash. Feel over flex.

There are some killer side stories too — like cutting a track tied to Iggy Pop in about ninety minutes with Andrew Watt and Chad Smith. No big ceremony, just show up and make noise. Or putting out the first Queens of the Stone Age record on Loosegroove before anybody knew how huge they’d get. Stone jokes they basically could’ve paid people to take the record at the time. The label eventually folded because, in his own words, he wasn’t ready. Too loose, not enough structure. When Loosegroove came back in 2020, it was different. More grounded. Less ego. More perspective.

They also touch on Dark Matter, the latest Pearl Jam record, and how some of the best stuff came together in the first 24 hours of just plugging in and going for it. No grand master plan — just energy and trust.

At the end, Jamie asks what Stone would tell his younger self before Pearl Jam blew up. His answer isn’t about business moves or hit songs. It’s simple: chill out. Be less anxious. Pay attention. Enjoy it while it’s happening. Trust your gut. That’s it.

Listening to him here, you realize something: Stone Gossard isn’t trying to reinvent himself. He’s trying to stay in that raw beginner mindset — the kid with three chords and a busted amp who didn’t know what he was doing and didn’t care. And maybe that’s the whole secret.